


Hie Ho Hie Ho, It's Off To A Venue We Go

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)
Genre: Being Lost, F/M, Multi, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-26
Updated: 2012-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-30 03:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not Frank's fault he gets lost in the woods, and it's certainly not his fault the only people around to rescue him are seven hermits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hie Ho Hie Ho, It's Off To A Venue We Go

**Title:**   
  
So Frank maybe wanders a bit too deep into the forest when the van pulls over to let him piss. It’s for the good of the band, really. Otter’s been making a lot of small dick jokes lately and Ray’s about ready to kill him. My Chemical Romance needs a drummer, even if he is sort of an asshole. And Ray wouldn’t do very good in prison. Hell, most of them would probably end up someone’s bitch. So he walks for five or ten minutes to make sure he’s far away enough from the rest of the band that certain jerkoffs won’t make certain comments.

It figures that’s what fucks him over. No good deed goes unpunished and all that. Maybe he’s a bit drunk or stoned still, it’s probably the lack of the sleep that won’t let him remember whether he drank or smoked up last night. Whatever intoxicant, the sheer fact is he can’t remember whether he turned left, right, or backwards to find a tree to piss on that didn’t look like it housed tiny animals. He picks the direction that makes the most sense -a one eighty degree turn because hopefully he didn’t turn at all to pee, just did it straight and his band is behind him- and walks for the five or ten minutes.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t get him back to the van. So he pulls out his cellphone. Without looking he presses eight, the speed dial for Brian. The phone is answered with a belch, which means two things; he accidentally pressed the row above, five, and Matt has gotten into someone else's soda. Probably nagged them into sharing, or Ray threatened them into it, because as far as things stood when Frank’d climbed over Mikey’s sprawled corpse-like body to get out the door, Otter had finished his an hour ago and was still thirsty.

“I’m lost in the woods. Come find me.”

Frank’s maybe expecting basic, Barney style advice, like 'stay where you are and we’ll come get you'. Instead he gets “yeah, okay.”

He should probably make his voice sound more panicked. It’s hard, he’s sleepy as fuck, and still feels sort of fuzzy from whatever he enjoyed last night and before his nap. Before he has a chance to get across the badness that is being lost Otter hangs up. It’s not promising for them sending the cavalry. Not that My Chem would be much of a cavalry, too much ripped denim, not enough armour. Plus fuck if any of them could ride a horse. Frank goes to try eight again, or maybe three for Gerard because Gee won’t yell at him, when his screen dies. A motherfucking low battery. That’s just goddamn lovely.

With nothing else left to do, he walks. He needs to get out of the fucking woods. At the very least Brian will kick his ass if he fucks up their driving schedule, and of course there’s that the longer he stays in the woods the more likely it is that he’ll be eaten by a bear. Frank frowns when he thinks he sees actual colour amongst the brown and green of the trees. Unless he’s still stoned, that’s red. He rushes forward, as he gets closer he can see it’s a house.

He knocks on the door rapidly. Hopefully they’re not the sort of privacy nut that answers a door with a shotgun in hand. Frank hasn’t seen a gun since he left Jersey, and would like that streak to continue. The door opens to a cluster of small ass people. Not Little People on Maury Povitch sized, but they can’t be much more than 4”9. Kid sized adults. It’s not their size that freaks him out, they’ve met people with disabilities for meet and greets. It’s the way the one in the purple hat is staring at him. Frank’s had the chance to see people who view him Pencey or My Chem as idols, but this is different. This stare is much more hardcore.

“Hey. I’m Frank. Uh, can you tell me how to get out of the forest?”

“No.”

“Oh, God. Don’t tell me you’re some kind of crazy hillbilly family and this is cosmic justice for drinking Mikey’s last juice box.” Because proportionally speaking, it doesn’t really seem fair that he’s going to get raped and skinned alive because he was thirsty and Mikey had strawberry-kiwi compared to his flat, half finished root beer.

The one with the glasses shakes his head. “Sneezy means we haven’t left the woods in a long while, we would most certainly get lost.” he continues to explain “we used to be miners but the mine dried up and we didn’t have any transferable skills. It’s easier to live like this.”

Another asks if he wants to come in, words difficult to understand through a yawn. Luckily Frank’s spent months of pre-coffee mornings with the Way brothers, he can understand the guy. He nods between a yawn of his own, the action contagious.

Frank looks for a place to sit before settling on the stairs. Everything in the house looks pretty and expensive, all custom made pieces. It’s all in sets of seven, Frank can only guess these guys have been living together for awhile. Some sort of short gay commune. He and Jamia have talked about polygamy a few times, but it’s a backburner issue. No need to get in depth about it when there’s no one else they both love. His perching choice is proven good when the seven men settle into their own chairs.

“Are you going to cook for us and clean for us and love us forever and never ever leave us?”

Frank stares at the man in the green hat. The fuck? “No. And by the way, really not helping me lose my hillbilly paranoia.”

The one with the glasses is apparently their spokesman, he explains “Bashful misses Snow White. She lived with us for a time.”

Orange Hat adds “we loved her so much we put her inside a crystal coffin.”

At this point the only thing that will get Frank out of this alive is if he can casually get himself near the front door so he can bolt. If they try to take him down, he’ll fight them tooth and nail. They outnumber him, but he’s slightly taller than them. He’s also more motivated. He doesn’t want to die, and he definitely doesn’t want them to wear his skin as a hat.

“Frank, the way you’re looking at Happy, I think you think we’re out to hurt you. Trust me, we would never harm you. When we thought Snow White dead we created a crystal coffin for her. She ended up not needing it. I’m sorry we can’t help you find your way. But it’s almost lunch, would you like to eat with us before you go searching your way back home?”

Okay, so that makes a little more sense than burying someone alive. He can’t help but notice there’s a big stew pot hanging from the chimney. It’s been weeks since he’s had anything but chips and prepackaged sandwiches from convenience stores. As long as one of them takes the first spoonful and doesn’t fall into a coma Frank might as well stay for soup.

It’s mostly silence after the yawning man ladles out seven bowls of soup. He tells Purple Hat that they’ll share a bowl, and Frank figures his earlier thought for correct; they really do only have seven of each article. Bashful, Happy, and Purple Hat are staring at him, so he waits for them to have a few bites before trying it. Not only does it not kill him or leave him incapacitated so they can have their way with him, it tastes about a hundred times better than anything he’s had lately. Possibly because it’s not soaked in grease.

When the sounds of slurping have finished Brown Hat takes the opportunity to ask Frank “are you an idiot? Don’t you know if you get lost in the woods wandering around makes it worse?"

“Oh Grumpy, don’t be so nasty. He couldn’t have known.”

“Yeah, Grumpy, he’s only human.”

Frank raises an eyebrow. “Guys, that dude is going to hit you if you keep calling him grumpy. At least, that’s what Bob would do.”

His rescue is both a production and a complete anti-climax. Frank’s sitting with Sneezy, who’d seemed the most open to being taught how to play Speed when the heavy wooden door crashes against the inside wall hard enough to rattle the shelf holding the plates and cups. Gerard barrels into the house and target locks onto Frank just as Sneezy lets one rip. Apparently it’s the last straw for Gerard Way, Massive Drama Queen, because he all but shrieks “you have Epstein Barr! He’s sneezing on you! You’re gonna die! You’re going to _kill_ him!”

Sneezy covers his mouth belatedly, looking horrified. Dopey pulls his hat over his face and Happy’s grin falls. In the last hour the guys have become sort of ridiculously attached to him. “It’s cool, it’s fine guys. Gerard’s over-exaggerating."

That’s all it takes for Gerard to swing his temper tantrum onto Frank. Which honestly Frank is happy about, because he can handle Way Drama far better than any of these strangers could. “What the _fuck_ Frank! You’ve been gone for hours!”

Crossing his arms doesn’t add much threatening bulk, but it does prevent him from hitting Gee. He’s pretty sure Dopey would have a heart attack. “You’re the assholes that didn’t come find me! Thank fuck these dudes let me in or I could have been eaten by a bear.”

“What the hell are you talking about ‘find you’?”

“Duh, I called Otter like three hours ago saying I didn’t know how the fuck to get out of the woods and get a rescue party.”

“Seriously? That little fucker didn’t say a thing.” Frank can practically see Gerard bottling his anger to unleash at the best possible moment.

“Would have called you or Brian but my phone died. And my hosts are rustic as hell, the recluse type. They don’t have wall sockets, never mind chargers.” Then a major fact occurs to Frank. “It took you three hours to realise I wasn’t having a piss?”

“We figured you smoked up and fell asleep. Brian was spazzing out until Bob convinced him to have a nap. You won’t be the only one yelling at that dick when we get back, trust me. Besides, he’s probably pissed off Ray by now.” Gerard snorts. Frank smiles too. It’s either that or get seriously stressed about the way the band is starting to crack, and he doesn’t like thinking about it when it can be in any way avoided.

“Is he your prince coming to save you?” Bashful asks, batting his eyelashes.

“The fuck?” Gerard asks.

“He’s my lead singer.” He turns to Gerard and explains quietly, “just go with it. Their last company was this girl they all crushed on before she took off with a honest to God prince. I guess they’re emotionally scarred from it.”

“So, uh, it was nice to meet you all,” Gerard says with a hand gesture. “But we’ve got a show tonight, and we’ve got just barely enough time to get there before our set. Like, the 'if we hit more than two lights we’re screwed, piss in a bottle if you need to go, no time to warm up' kind of just enough time.”

Frank snorts. “While I fear Brian’s reaction if we fuck up tonight’s show, we’re still lost in the fucking woods. I asked them, they don’t know how to get out either.”

Gerard shrugs. “I marked a trail.”

“You just happened to carry a loaf of bread to crumble?”

“Don’t be a retard. I Sharpied the trees.”

He should have figured that, really. “So thanks, guys, for letting me stay and cooking me lunch. I’ve sorta gotta go play music now, but it was really awesome to meet you.”

It doesn’t seem like quite enough, really. Even Gerard is looking at him askew, never mind Happy’s drooping lower lip. “Uh... group hug before I go?”

It’s like a mini mosh-pit, seven bodies rushing him. Frank’s maybe a bit surprised by Grumpy, but not too much. He’s a shorter Bob, after all, and Bob loves people. He just can’t admit it worth a damn. He makes sure to hug each one individually before following Gerard out of the house. Probably no one at home will believe he met an awesome group of forest dwelling Little People, it’ll be just another bullshit tour story. But Frank and Gerard will know, and maybe, just maybe, he’ll mention to Jamia the idea of a prince.


End file.
